Home Again
by Commander
Summary: Nuttin' but a fluffy little telling of John and Abigail's reunion from the episode The Bostonians. If you can't handle fluff, then... don't read. Oneshot.


(AN: Heh. I don't know where to start with this author's note.

As you've probably deduced by now, I like the cartoon Liberty's Kids… a lot. A whole lot. I love cartoons, and I love American history… esp. the American revolution. When I found by complete random chance one day that someone had melded them into one, I did a double take at my TV. I could go on and on, but I'm sure it would be redundant.

Another thing I'm really obsessed with (and fitting in with the love of American history) is American presidents… call me a dork, but I know all of them in order, what political party they were part of, how many children they had, what their shoe size was… okay, not the last one, but I could figure out most of them in a jiffy, I'm sure. It's one of those weird quirks of mine, which I'm awful proud of. So when I find a TV show with cartoon incarnations of five of the first six presidents… you'd better believe I'm interested.

And now onto the next rant—romance. I'm normally not a big romance fan, as the stuff you see in movies and TV shows is completely unrealistic. And that leads me to the episode of LK called "The Bostonians"—something that turns even romance cynical me around.

True, I've admired John and Abigail Adams's relationship before that, but I came to be totally and completely obsessed with them (I believe the term is "shipper") with a boost from LK. Again, I'm sure you'll know what it is about this couple I love so much when you read the fic, but I do have to throw in one more comment—unlike the other four couples that I ship, J/A tops the list because _they actually existed, _and LK does a great job of showing them as they were. (sighs happily) So romantic…

I would have named this fic "Faithfully" or "Open Arms", both beautiful Journey songs that fit J&A so well… but I've already used them as titles for Fairly Oddparents fanfics. However, I'm not one to be undone—I slipped in a line from Open Arms into this story. Chocolate cake goes out to whoever catches it. :D

Oh yeah, one side note—I gave Nabby a rather large role in this. They don't show her greeting her father in the episode—what's up with that? She's the only girl in the family; I'm sure she's already got a slight inferiority complex. ;) Poor thing!

Disclaimer time: I, as usual, don't own anything. Liberty's Kids belongs to DiC Entertainment, and heck, most of the characters in this story actually existed (and are probably rolling in their graves right now, ha ha!). Please don't sue me! (That's my catchphrase.) I hope you like, and I hope the sugary sweetness doesn't give you cavities!)

O.o.O

"Better check your pie, Sarah."

Sarah Phillips gave Abigail Adams a nod and pulled her pie out of the oven. Taking a whiff in, she smiled. "I do believe apple is my favorite," she said.

"It's John's as well," said Abigail, her voice trailing off as she rolled out the dough of the pie that she was working on.

Her daughter Nabby, who was washing dishes, gave her mother a glimmer of a smile. "Mother, remember how much he loves mince pie?"

Abigail stopped her rolling and sighed. "I'd almost forgotten," she admitted sadly. "If I don't see him soon I swear I shall forget his face."

Sarah set her pie on the open windowsill to cool. "How long has it been since you last heard from him?" she asked.

"It seems like months," sighed Abigail. Sarah bit her lip. She certainly hadn't wanted to throw Mrs. Adams in a melancholy mood. Perhaps she should not have said anything… anything about liking apple pies? No, no. She didn't know. She _couldn't _have known.

"I don't know how much longer I can carry on without him," Abigail continued. "Why did he only send me two letters in eighteen months when I sent him _dozens?"_

Sarah gulped. Poor Mrs. Adams! She could imagine it, certainly—how long had she lived without knowing where her father was, or even if he was still alive? She opened her mouth to comfort her but then—

"Oooooow!"

Running to the window, Sarah glared at the culprit who had tried to take her pie. It was Henri, of course, rubbing his burnt hands painfully. "Henri LeFevre, that serves you right," she scolded sternly. She was about to chide him more when something caught the corner of her eye and snatched the words of rebuttal right from her mouth. "Mrs. Adams, look!" she cried, pointing down the road.

It was John and John Quincy Adams walking up to the house! "Abigail!" cried John.

Abigail heard it very clearly. She rushed to the window and gaped in total shock. "John!" she called back.

Charles and Thomas, who were playing jacks on the floor of the kitchen, immediately leapt up to their feet and sprinted out of the door, crying out, "Father! Father!" Abigail was right behind them.

Sarah smiled as she watched the happy reunion… and as she felt that small twang of guilt leave her.

Nabby set down the dish she was drying and stood by the window next to Sarah, also smiling.

"Nabby, why are you still in here?" Sarah asked. "Don't you want to greet your father?"

Nabby smiled. "Of course, but I'll give him time to greet my brothers and mother first. He probably missed them more…"

"Why would you say that?" asked Sarah. "I'm positive that he missed all of you equally!"

As if on cue, John set down Charles and Thomas (who had both leapt into his arms) and asked them, "But where is your sister?"

Sarah grinned at Nabby. "See?"

"Oh, alright." Nabby returned the grin and, in a rather unladylike fashion, climbed out of the window and landed squarely on her feet. "I'm here, Father!" she cried as she ran to her family.

"My goodness, Nabby!" cried John as his daughter gave him a fierce hug. "Look at how much you've grown! You've really turned into a beautiful young lady."

Nabby's face flushed bright red. "Thank you, Father," she said. She let go and shot a grin at her brother John Quincy. "We-ell, look who's finally back from the upper class society!"

John Quincy gave Nabby a small smirk. "Don't you want to hear all about it?" he asked.

Charles and Thomas's eyes grew wide. "Ooh, tell us, Quincy! Tell us!"

"Alright," said Quincy, "but… if you don't mind, I'd like to tell it out here, outside. Although I really did have an agreeable time, I found myself missing this lovely Massachusetts scenery."

As the three boys ran off to the small wooded area nearby, Nabby found herself rolling her eyes. "What kind of school did you send him to, Father? He sounds like a philosopher!"

"I don't think it was the school, it was just John Quincy," laughed John. "He loves learning so much, he soaked up everything like a sponge."

"Well, I think I'd like to hear what he has to say. Mother, may I continue washing the dishes later?"

Abigail smiled. "Of course, dear. You haven't seen your brother in so long, you're more than welcome to chat with him."

Nabby gave her mother a smile of gratitude and ran off after her brothers.

Back at the window, Sarah pushed Henri away from the building. "Why don't you and I go too, Henri? This pie needs a chance to cool anyway."

"I'll say it does," moaned Henri, gazing sadly at his scorched hands. "Alright then!"

Sarah sighed as she hoisted herself up on the windowsill, just as Nabby had done. "This is so unladylike," she muttered, swinging her legs to the outside and neatly landing on the ground. "Come on, Henri!" She and Henri ran after the Adams children.

John and Abigail watched the children—all of them, even Sarah and Henri—dash off into the wooded area, until the sound of their footsteps were gone.

And now it was just them.

All alone.

Abigail brushed her hair back awkwardly. "John… could we go inside, please?"

John shifted uneasily on his feet. "Of course, dear."

The husband and wife walked side by side into the house, but uncomfortably, as if they were two strangers being forced to converse. Abigail could feel her heart clench. Was this really how they were going to interact… now that they were _finally _together? Like outsiders to each other?

She opened the door and they walked into the parlor. Shutting the door behind them for privacy, Abigail turned to John and opened her mouth to speak… and froze.

There was so much she wanted to say—how much she had missed him, what France had been like, how happy she was to see him… but the thing that flew out of her mouth without warning was nothing but an accusation.

"Why did you never write me?"

John sighed, "But I _did, _darling—"

"Only twice! And neither of your letters did much to comfort me!"

"But I told you, I was fearful that the British would intercept my letters and use things I wrote against me!"

"Why would you be fearful about that?" Abigail whispered. "Are you ashamed of your feelings for me?"

"No, that's not it at all—"

"Then why? Do you realize how lonely I've been here? Do you realize how every day I have waited for a letter from you, and rarely was my wish granted? And when it was, I just got a few lines of—"

Abigail stopped and drew in a shaky breath, realizing how much she was trembling. Her words had been harsh, _too _harsh—she finally had her husband back with her and how was she greeting him? With allegations and anger. John looked almost crestfallen.

"I… I'm so sorry, John," she finally murmured, feeling her eyes fill with tears. "I didn't mean… it's just that… I…" With one hand, she quickly wiped away a tear that was falling down her cheek.

John took a step towards her and held her hands in his, stroking them gently. "No, Abigail, _I'm _sorry. I should have placed greater importance on your feelings than my political career."

"I…" Abigail hesitated for another few moments until her real, deep fear, the true cause of her anguish, suddenly spilled out. "I was so afraid that your affections had drifted elsewhere."

John seemed shocked. _"What?"_

"I just keep thinking that you might have met someone else, a woman, someone who… made forgetting about me easier." Abigail felt sick to her stomach. She hadn't meant on disclosing this, but now that it was out, at least it wasn't gnawing at her anymore.

"Abigail… it was quite the contrary! Every woman I saw made me _remember _you, and made me long for you even more!"

Abigail smiled through her tears—one managed to tumble down her cheek, however. "I know that it was just my imagination running away with me, but still… I was so frightened that you had ceased to care…"

John dropped Abigail's hands to wipe away her tear. "Never."

"Thank God for that," Abigail whispered without thinking. She gazed into his eyes. "I've missed you so much…"

She nestled into his chest and wrapped her arms around him gratefully, finally being able to have him near again, the one thing she had longed for all these eighteen months.

"So have I," said John quietly. He found himself smiling. "I must confess, however, that your paranoia surprised me."

"Why is that?" asked Abigail.

John shrugged. "Don't take this as an insult…"

"Do I even _want _to hear what you're about to say?"

"Sometimes…" John, always the politician, was struggling to find the most inoffensive way to say what he was trying to convey. "Sometimes you take things the wrong way, and I really don't want you to—"

"John." Abigail pulled away from him and looked him straight in the eyes. "Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want to tell me."

"Well, it's just that… You've always been strong-willed, one of the strongest women—one of the strongest human beings, period—that I've ever known… I just didn't expect you to suffer so greatly from my absence."

Abigail could feel herself smiling warmly. "And why on earth would I take that as an insult, darling?"

John, despite himself, smiled as well. "Well, in the past you have taken innocent comments of mine to extremities…"

"_You _think they were innocent," laughed Abigail. "However, if memory serves me correctly, some were very much otherwise."

John couldn't help it—he laughed as well. Oh, how good it was to hear her voice again, to hear her laughter again!

Abigail nestled into John again and closed her eyes in bliss. Oh, how good it was to hear his voice again, to hear his laughter again!

The two held each other tightly, each allowing their thoughts to drift.

John thought back to when they had been courting… Abigail had so much attention back then, as she should have. She was so intelligent, so learned, and so astute! She could have chosen any one of her suitors. And yet, out of all of them, she chose HIM… the stubborn, tactless, portly, and somewhat below her class lawyer. He didn't deserve her… but she wanted him anyway.

He was the luckiest man on earth!

Abigail's thoughts, too, were focused on their past. John had always been a charming young man, very popular with the ladies. Well, of course he was! He was intelligent, that slight ego of his was adorable, and he was so passionately strong about his beliefs, it was enticing! He could have chosen any one of his suitors. And yet, out of all of them, he chose HER… that strange, frail girl always buried in some book. She didn't deserve him… but he wanted her anyway.

She was the luckiest woman on earth!

They held each other for a few blessed quiet moments, not needing words.

"Was it really so hard on you?" John asked.

"Yes… I may be that 'strong-willed' woman you consider me, but I _am _still a woman, with those womanly emotions," said Abigail with a sigh. "And no matter how strong-willed I might be, some things can really drive me to despair." She pulled a bit away at him to give him a gentle, loving smile. "But now that you've come back, turned night into day… I need you to stay."

John returned the smile. "I'll stay as long as you wish me to, darling."

"I've heard that one before," snorted Abigail, although she kept her smile. "You're too tied into your politics to refuse a call to duty."

"But… I…" John sighed in defeat. "I suppose you're right."

"But I'm alright with that!" said Abigail, surprising John. "I know how valuable you are to the American cause… and while I admit that at times I dislike sharing you with our country… it is for the good of all. The good of future generations… and our children." Her eyes sparkled in an almost unearthly like manner.

"Yes… for the children!" John seemed to be growing in pride as well. "But Abigail, I promise you that I will devote more time _to _our children by staying here with you."

"That would be wonderful, but I don't want to force you away from…" Abigail stopped. If she went any further, she'd be lying. Because more than anything else, she just wanted him _home to stay._

"It's alright, darling," said John, finishing her statement himself. "I've spent this whole war doing what I desired. But that has meant lowering the priority of _your _wishes. I do believe it's your turn now."

Abigail could feel tears welling in her eyes again—this was getting old, but part of her didn't really care. "Thank you so much for being so considerate of me, love."

"And thank _you _for always supporting me," said John, pulling her back to him for a third time.

Again, words were unnecessary as husband and wife held each other tightly, as if afraid someone would snatch their dearest away.

But then John sniffed.

"Do I smell something… burning?"

"Oh my goodness, the pie!" Abigail let go of John in an instant and sprinted to the kitchen.

John sighed and shook his head, beaming.

"It's good to be home."


End file.
